Nap & Milkstains : The Aftermath

When I found out I was pregnant at the end of January I reluctantly went to Barnes & Noble to buy some pregnancy literature. At only 6 or so weeks pregnant I still didn't FEEL like I was carrying a miniature little seedling inside of me so when the cashier asked me if the book was for me I told him quickly that, no, it was for my sister who was expecting. "Oh, well, kids are great", he said with a smile. I walked out of the store feeling uncomfortable (and really, what business did he have asking me such a personal question anyway?) and unsure of this new title in my life. Pregnant. What did this mean for my life as I knew it? So I began reading my book. What to Expect...I'm sure you've heard of it and, chances are, if you've been pregnant before you've read it too. Week after week month after month I read. By month 9 I was an expert, or so I thought.

Whatever mention there had been of the post-pregnancy experience I must have skipped over because I literally had NO idea what I would be getting. It's been nearly two weeks. Two weeks of beautiful frustration. Two weeks of naps and milk stains. Two weeks of tears. Two weeks of kissing soft cheeks. Two weeks of tiny hands reaching for my fingers. Two weeks of loving this absolutely perfect child that I created with The Bear and carried for 41 weeks. These are the moments I didn't know I had been waiting for.



Our little Baby Bear is delightful, there is no other way to describe it. Her sweet stares while she is awake, cooing, and wiggly arms are worth all the heartache I've experienced trying to feed her. Feeding time can be hell at the Bear home. Baby decided early on to make it as difficult for herself, and her mama, by refusing to actually work for her food. I suppose it shouldn't be too much to ask that the milk just pour gloriously from my chest into her open, expecting mouth. I would if I could but instead I patiently work, day after day after day, to help her understand that one must make a very small effort for each meal. She's coming around, slowly but surely, and in the end the work is all quite selfish; I love nursing this stubborn, willful, child.



No one really told me how much I would love loving her. "You'll love being a mom!", I heard them all say. But I doubted myself. I doubted my ability to be maternal. And perhaps I'm not perfect....but I love it all the same.

Arrival : The Alien Hath Landed : The Long of It

"She looks like an alien", Mr. Bear announced....

Thursday morning (September 17th 2009), 3:00 AM, contractions began. At 5 minutes apart I knew that it was the day. "Do you want to have a baby today?" I asked Mr. Bear assuming that we would wait through the day, go to the hospital that evening and...you know...have a baby. We waited...and waited and waited and waited, called my mom over, waited some more.....and that evening, when it seemed that contractions were about 3 minutes apart consistently and I was in significant pain (can I tell you about back labor now?) we headed to the hospital. After a frustrating, painful, uncomfortable, miserable hour at the hospital I was told that my day of labor had not progressed my cervix any further than I had been a week before. They gave me a shot of morphine (heavenly in retrospect but at the time I hated how it made me feel)and sent me home. Sleep, they told me. Had they ever experienced back labor before?

Friday, September 18th. Drowsy from the morphine and the pain there is nothing more to say other than I endured an entire day of 2 1/2 minute long, hideously painful back contractions. All day. ALL DAY!!! I moved from the couch only to use the bathroom. Everything hurt. Breathing hurt. Although my contractions were varying between 2 minutes and 9 minutes apart they were so long and so intense The Bear and my mom insisted we make the trek back to the hospital late that night. Equipped with more pillows than the night before (the delivery rooms might as well have been a sterile room with a metal bed they were so uncomfortable), and ready to insist that we stay no matter what, we checked in and began our hour wait. Inside I was crying. I knew the contractions were too irregular and they would send me home again. "How can I do another day of this?" I thought to myself. Next to me Mr. Bear and my mom waited, wondered, but I knew, I knew we were going home again, and my body was ready to give up. I felt defeated. Was it supposed to be this difficult? The nurse came into the room and watched as I endured a nearly 3 minute contraction, curled up in what was surely the most uncomfortable bed in the WORLD. I explained that this is what I've been dealing with since Thursday morning. Could she hear the pleading in my voice? "Please, just tell me I can stay and have this baby, please". Still, there was almost no progression. My heart sank. She left to call my doctor and as the time passed, minute by minute by minute 20, 30, 40 minutes, I began to hope. She returned with the words I had been waiting to hear. I could stay. I could stay in this awful place, in this awful bed, with this awful pain! I could stay and have my baby.

Back labor, it was hell. I couldn't remember what it was like to not be in pain. Epidural, broken water......still my progression was too slow. Alien was posterior....which by definition means she was causing me incredible amounts of pain with absolutely no result. Without help this could continue for another day, or more, who knew. It was at this point we named her Little Shit and began writing "I owe you's" on her behalf. They started a very light pitocin drip and shortly after we could see that it was enough to make the difference. I wouldn't be in labor forever, it was a relief despite the disappointment I felt with myself at the need for the drugs to get to that point. Time passed and exhausted I lay in the bed, a prisoner attached to monitors, IV's, and tubes, making no noise, just waiting for it all to end.

I don't recall what time it was when I rolled to my side and felt an excruciating pain in my neck. It was paralyzing and continued to get worse. There was nothing they could do for this pain, they told me. "This isn't normal", I moaned to my mom. Hours passed. There is no way to describe what these hours were like for me. I couldn't move or even lay still without the pain taking my breath away. Nearly 3 hours later, as Mr. Bear held my body up in the bed while I cried from the extreme pain, after being told time and time again that the pain would go away on it's own, someone recognized that I could not continue and a pain reliever was administered via IV. I'm not sure if I just imagined myself yelling at them, telling them I couldn't continue any longer in this pain, or if I was just crying loud enough to frighten the entire labor and delivery floor but I was grateful someone had heard me and saw my suffering as more than an over dramatic laboring mother who couldn't handle a little discomfort. The pain dulled just enough for me to lay my head back on pillows without crying uncontrollably as I had been for the last few hours(out loud or in my head, once again I'm not sure).

It was almost 9:00 AM on September 19th when I began to push. I was determined. I had not suffered the past 54 hours to fall short in this moment. I silently begged my child to turn into the correct position for delivery, and as if she was apologizing for the last two days, she complied. Unfortunately she began to feel the stress of our labor and her heart rate started to drop after each contraction. The nurse said that although I was pushing brilliantly the doctor may need to use a vacuum extractor to speed things up if her heart rate didn't return to normal. We had an hour to bring her into this world. A time limit. I forgot the pain in my neck. I forgot my fears. I concentrated all my energy into this little one trying fitfully to join her father and I in that hospital room. "Are we close?", was my continuous question. We were close. At 10:45 AM on 09/19/09 she arrived. My memory of it is mostly a blur. They put her on my stomach and I had my hands on her wrinkly, wet, little body for only a moment before they whisked her away. A respiratory therapist was in the room waiting to check her due to the possibility that she had swallowed meconium during the birth process. The Bear watched over her, camera in hand, just as I had asked him to. "She looks like an Alien" he called over to me.





Cleaned and swaddled they placed her in my arms and explained that she had swallowed too much meconium (she swallowed 7 milliliters we were told later that morning) and needed to take a trip to the NICU. Something about a CPAP machine. "Don't let her out of your sight", I said to The Bear. My heart ached as they rolled her out of the room, only minutes after she had arrived. She spent nearly 5 hours away from me. Mr. Bear sent us pictures and called me to give me updates. He loved her. She was his and she was beautiful. That afternoon he finally handed me our sweet baby girl. I snuggled her close, inhaled her sweet scent, kissed her rosy cheeks and I loved her.





The next day we named her Madeleine. Or, Baby Bear as she will be known going forward.

You Give Me, Something

Last week was my final week at the office before Alien arrives. This means I don't technically have to work anymore....though I spent most of the afternoon today checking up on stuff. MUST.LET.GO.

This ALSO means that I get to wear sweats EVERYDAY for the next week if I wish. And I do wish. Mr. Bear found a pair of HUGE sweats that he gave to me last week. I wear them every single day, from the moment I get off of work until the next morning, and I love them. Love.Them. I swear by pajamas. They may not make me feel look sexy but damn if they don't make me feel good.

Walking in the house at the end of the day, knowing I get to take my jeans off....and EVEN MY BRA IF I WANT TO!.....is seriously the best feeling. There is no greater reward for this pregnant hippo woman. The entire 5 minute climb up our 3 flights of stairs I just focus on the step ahead and remind myself that if I survive (and that is one big IF) I will get to take my clothes off. Aside: I'm sure Mr. Bear wishes I would continue to feel this way once I don't have a huge belly. But now I don't have to walk up the stairs to treat myself to my sweats! It's awesome.

The whole "no work" thing would be much more enjoyable if I wasn't getting sick. Yep. Thanks to some DB (read: DOUCHE BAG!) at the office who got Mr. Bear sick, I am now coughing and suffering a headache. I know that an achy body and sniffles are on the way, probably by this evening. I really REALLY do not want to be coughing during labor. I think the whole giving birth thing looks awful enough without adding a serious cough to the mix.

On the up side, perhaps I can just cough her out.....I know The Bear would think that was totally awesome.

Reflection

Today I am sitting at work, entirely overwhelmed and under productive, waiting on a miracle my boss to return so I can finish up this one pressing item on my urgent "to do" list (not to imply that him returning would be a miracle, rather getting any work done in our current state of software disarray would be a miracle), and rather than move on to one of the many other items I could be working on I find myself thinking of another "to do" list that I've greatly neglected in my recent state of pregnant exhaustion. I know Mr. Bear feels that I constantly talk about the baby, or how not ready we are, or what it will be like, or "ARE YOU SO EXCITED(?!?!?!?!)" but in reality I haven't done any of the things I wanted to do.

I wanted to take some time to connect, which I haven't done because if it doesn't involve connecting myself to the bed, or connecting a fork to my open mouth, I don't have the desire or energy for it. I don't know what I was expecting to connect with but I felt like pre-outside of the womb baby and I should have some special time and that would make some kind of difference. I hope I was wrong because we connect over ice cream (she likes it) but nothing much deeper than that.

I wanted to write. Not sarcastic complaining blogging writing but some serious words. I wanted to let the Alien know what these past 9 months have been like for me. I wanted to write about how scary, but amazing, it was to meet someone, find out you are having a baby with them, fall so in love you can't believe how lucky you are and proceed to gain 60+ pounds in anticipation of her arrival. I wanted to write about how I felt each day; how my back would ache and I would lay in bed with a hot water bottle watching television before dropping into a coma and waking The Bear with my snores, how strange, but reassuring, it was to watch my body morph into a walking Sci-Fi movie expanding farther than I ever thought possible, how I would lay in bed and watch her alien movements crawl across my belly and how I knew it was special because I was the only one who could see (it required too much patience for The Bear to watch), how someday she ought to buy me a closet of shoes because all mine are too small now....and that is a lot of shoes to grow out of.

I wanted to make everything perfect. And instead The Bear's condo is frequently a mess with my unfinished projects, unwashed laundry, disregarded dishes.....it just all became too much. I'm jealous of women who get to spend their working hours focusing on these things instead of sitting at a desk unable to do much else other than bookmark more junk from Etsy than any one person could ever need.

And now....now I have less than 4 weeks until that day the doctor has deemed my "due date" and I can't figure out where the time has gone. We haven't toured the hospital where this Alien is supposed to be born (and I'm sort of grateful because I'm dreading it, don't ask me why) and I haven't packed a bag just in case she makes an early entrance (please no, I don't have enough diapers or any clothes that would fit!). I don't know the number I'm supposed to call when I go into labor and I don't know what exactly we are supposed to do. I suppose I've been hoping for some divine intervention on all of this, but fear not, we tour the hospital tomorrow and I'm sure The Bear will think (hopefully) of any questions we should be asking. Me, I'm just overwhelmed by it all because 3 1/2 weeks isn't a lot when you think about the past 9 months and I am in complete shock.

I hope I remember how to hold a new born. It would be mighty embarrassing if I've forgotten.......

Grind My Bones to Make Your Bread

This past week Mr. Bear and I traveled to New England for a much needed and HIGHLY anticipated vacation. I didn't really have any expectations for our trip so it easily met all of them. Sleeping in until 10 and only feeling a little guilty, overdosing on carbs, dessert every night...the list goes on. Alien loved it too I am sure as she was wiggling up a storm the entire time.

Since I've returned she's taken to waking during the late evening/nights which is VERY UNWELCOME! Hear that baby? I do not care if you distort your body into every shape imaginable all day long. I do not care if when I eat you try to physically reach your hands out of my stomach so you can grab a bite for yourself. I do not even care if you get the hiccups on and off for 30 minutes distracting me from my work. HOWEVER I very much care that you have decided that 11 PM isn't good for sleeping but is very good for wiggling! I thought we had an understanding. You are officially grounded.

So, our week long vacation came to an end much too quickly and we headed home carrying with us a nasty cold. I spent the last 2 days with the sniffles but by the time we got home Stephen had been hit with a much more severe version of the same. He coughed up most of his internal organs and it is taking some time to get them all back in place. In the meantime I've had to hand over my place as pampered princess in order to nurse him back to health. This has been easy enough since he mostly requires a couch, a tv controller, and a reminder to take some medicine but trust me in 2 years when he groans about getting me a drink of water after we've both already gotten into bed (which he probably would never do) I will NOT hesitate to remind him of that time when he was so jealous of all my pregnancy attention that he got sick and ALMOST DIED FROM COUGHING just so he could feel special like me. It certainly wasn't easy for me to watch television while he rested all day Sunday. I can't do this forever you know!!!

I'd post a picture of us from our time together....but we didn't take any. Not even one! Mostly due to the fact that I am fat and hate my face and also due to the fact that Stephen was doing all the picture taking of pretty things like water and buildings. There are a few of me, looking ornery, but I won't post those either because MY FACE IS IN THEM!

We are back to the grind and can't quite figure out how we didn't win the 152 million dollar lottery (we forgot to get tickets doh!!!) so that is our goal for the next year.

♥ have an Alien
♥ win the lottery and NEVER WORK AGAIN!!!!!!!!

6 weeks. 6 weeks. 6 weeks. I'm not nearly prepared enough and I still scratch my head and wonder when all this happened and was I present when it all began? Because it just doesn't feel REAL. My doctor says that it is but I am not so sure. I think the beer just caught up to me.....

Melissaurous

I wanted to add two things relating to the events of yesterday.

One: If you are making a dinner for one and the food happens to be ravioli NEVER overcook it!!! It explains clearly on the package that overcooking ravioli means imminent death. I know this because it was capped and italicized TWICE on the package. Pretty sure this is how the dinosaurs became extinct.

Two: If you are pregnant and in need of a snack might I suggest a little treat I enjoy? Frosting...and chunky peanut butter. Yes. I only wish I'd helped myself to a glass of milk. If overcooking ravioli doesn't kill me my snacking habits surely will.

A Repeat

What's a girl to do when left alone for 3 days? Well, after suffering from immobilizing back pain for most of Sunday evening and throughout the night and then waking up exhausted with a migraine....that answer is sleep. A message to my boss, re-fluffing of the pillows and I didn't move from my bed until after 1 in the afternoon. Most people would be ashamed to admit this extreme laziness, and after a weekend no less, but I'm growing a human so I get a break. This growing business catches me a lot of breaks these days. A list? I think perhaps....

♥ eating chocolate at any point during the day
♥ eating chocolate MULTIPLE times during the day
♥ waddling....walking is way harder when you are holding a baby IN YOUR BACK!
♥ stains on every shirt I own. I still haven't figured out the dynamics of this belly.
♥ getting fat. Not only do I get away with the excess fat on my ass but people actually fall over themselves to tell me how great I look HA.
♥ sleeping all the time.
♥ crying. Mostly Mr. Bear has to deal with this, bless his angry bear heart, but I have to give props to the brother of the bear, and my own family. They all excuse the moods on a regular basis.

So, after prying myself from bed, I took an hour and half long bath reading trashy romance novels, watched re-runs of crappy tv shows, and ate a lonely dinner. And yes, I managed to spill a few drops on my PJ clad belly.

As if there could be any question, I miss Mr. Bear terribly and cannot wait for Wednesday night to be here. It seems I post these same sentiments every time he leaves, and I'm sure I'll continue to do so throughout my life (the traveling isn't likely to stop any time soon). But after many many years of bad marriage and bad dating I've finally realized what it's like to actually LOVE being with someone so much that even an afternoon without him is lonely. So I guess being sad without him is a reminder of how lucky I am to be happy with him around!

Over and out....I need to end my evening with more bad television and some peanut butter. Score.